Loran Smith: Remembering John Underwood, a friend and great author on sports figures

John Underwood, a classic, keenly creative, and extraordinary writer, has entered the afterlife, but he leaves behind an enviable legacy, especially his resonating voice which was accompanied with canny insight and discerning reason.

I won’t let go of the memories of the times we shared together and his ability to communicate with such eloquence and verve along with a penetrating view about the ignoble underpinning which often accompanies sports; the ugliness of greed.

While he preferred to move into lockstep with the beauty of sports’ redeeming and uplifting narratives, he was never reluctant to speak out against the ills of the games which we hold sacred.

Underwood became a companion and confidante of Boston Red Sox slugger Ted Williams with and about whom he wrote four books.  “My Turn at Bat,” was a best seller.  His book about Bear Bryant, the Alabama coach, was also a best seller.

“My Turn at Bat” was such a great book I read it three, maybe four times, choosing to immerse in this classic story on long flights to Europe.  It was a great way to “shorten” the journey across the Atlantic.  An aisle seat and a tumbler or two or more of Irish whiskey with soft music coursing through a headset while you vicariously relived the great moments of the “Splendid Splinter’s” sensational and remarkable career.

If you have a paradigmatic story showcased by a skilled and adroit wordsmith, you realize you are the beneficiary of a rare experience.  That book will be an inspiration for the sports world with the passing of time.  Underwood’s remarkable ability to describe Williams batting skills (the greatest power hitter the game has known), getting the best out of the slugger and surviving the cantankerous bluster of Williams who had no reluctance to offend anyone when his turbulent temper was piqued.

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Only Underwood could get an apology when Williams unnecessarily insulted with a biting and castigating remark.  Ted’s unparalleled patience at the plate, which was key in his becoming the last player to bat .400 in a season, was never exercised if you were bone fishing with him and rocked the boat and spooked the fish.  On such occasions, his salty language would embarrass a boatswain’s mate.

When that happened to Underwood, he was not reluctant to dress down the great batsman.   They fished for tarpon and bone in the Florida Keys and Atlantic salmon on Canada’s Miramichi River.   The last excursion led to a book, “Fishing the Big Three.”   Williams proclaimed that the Atlantic salmon, the bone, and the tarpon were the three giants of game fishing, and he gloried in the abundant netting of all three.